Aeromancy
by AkaiTennyo
Summary: (Noun) Divination from the state of the atmosphere; also: predicting the weather. It's about as easy as figuring out one very messed up teenager.


Chapter 1: Mist

The night was grey and dense. Fog pressed against the ground, thick billows shrouding the world in dark and somber haze. Lighted windows were dull in the distance and the clawed trees could barely be deciphered by what moonlight managed to trickle through the clouds. The clouds threatened rain, but were still gathering their strength for the deluge.

The excess moisture clung to the ground, turning dried out earth into an abrasive soup. Grass and leaves clung to whatever brushed past them. It wasn't quite cold enough to freeze, but that only made the night more inhospitable. It was uncomfortably chill, but winter clothes left a person clammy and tepid. Most people in the nearby town were safely indoors, away from the hostile weather.

Which was exactly why one woman was outdoors.

The damp that had softened her escape over grey asphalt betrayed her once she stepped onto the dirt path, loud squelches echoing through the twilight. The mud sucked down on her boots and threatened to jump to her cloak. Branches reached out to snarl the black wool and more than once a vine conspired to tear at red twill. Leather gloves were constantly employed to bat away the persistent plants.

She bit back a sigh. The forest was usually such a pleasant retreat from the blazing dullness of suburbia. Tonight, however, she felt as if she were trespassing. The mood was foreboding at best, and the snarling flora and sticky mud were not good signs. Still, she pressed on, following a familiar, if suddenly inimical pathway through the woods.

Finally the dense undergrowth gave way to her destination: a small glade near the river. It was normally a sanctuary; quiet and uninhabited. The calm that usually prevailed here allowed her to focus and to meditate. But even this seemed menacing tonight, the gentle swish of river waves replaced by a monstrous dripping growl.

The smoke swirled around her, bleak and colorless. The sky was deep black, only hinting at a deep indigo. The earth, drained of its summer warmth, was a sticky and damp umber beneath her feet. The river was as bleak as the sky, different only in hue. Evergreen instead of navy. The only spot of brightness was a shock of white hair spilled over shore rocks.

Wait? Hair?!

Panic coursed through her and she rushed to the river, dreading what she might find. Boots slipped over mud and algae slimed rocks. The black cloak dragged over the muck on the bank as she clambered down to the prone form.

The person on the rocks was lucky their hair was so pale. It was the only thing that could be seen of the body from more than about six or seven paces. The rest of the figure was covered in a snug, dark fabric and was still partially submerged in the water. Face down, she had no idea of the person was still alive.

The cloaked woman kneeled down beside the wet, broken body. She reached out a gloved hand to shift hair away from the face.

"A boy!" She was so surprised that the exclamation slipped passed teeth and lips to echo in the darkness. With hair that color and length, she had been expecting an older female. It was more tragic, she felt, that one so young should have-

The boy took a sudden, shuddering breath. The woman snatched her hand back as if burned, though his skin was icy to the touch. He was alive! She needed to call a hospital. But, oh! Her phone was at home. She hadn't wanted to bring the noisy contraption into her wooded sanctuary.

'Naturally,' she snarled in her head, 'the one time I actually need to call the bloody world…'

She reached back out to hold the boy. Slowly, she rolled him over, careful to support his neck and back, in case he was injured. Luckily, everything seemed to be moving properly and there were no odd crunches or misshapes to evidence broken bones. She sat the boy up gently, brushing pale hair from wan face.

"Hey, now," she said softly, "are you hurt anywhere?"

The boy groaned low in response.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked again. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Wha-?" the boy gasped out. The effort clearly drained him, and he laid limp in her arms for several minutes.

The woman supported his head as it lolled. "Hey, now, what's your name handsome?" she tried again. "Are you hurt?"

The boy coughed water in response. Obligingly, the woman leaned him forward, gently patting his back as he spit up into the river. Tense minutes of silence passed, punctuated only by wet drips and the sound of retching. Her patting smoothed out into a gentle circle. One hand came up to pull his pale hair away from the mess.

Finally the boy's body stopped heaving. Still rubbing his back, the woman asked another question.

"Feeling a bit better?" she asked him.

The boy nodded weakly, but did not speak again.

Sensing she wouldn't get more from him, the woman carefully held the boy by the shoulders and pulled him back to a sitting position.

"Do you think you can stand?" she asked him. "We really need to get you out of the river and to a doctor."

The boy's eyes flew open.

"No!" he wailed. The protest was weak, but there was no disguising the panic in his voice or the flail of his arms.

Surprised by his urgency, the woman nearly let him go. "Stop that!" she ordered. She held onto his arms firmly, desperate to keep him from injuring himself further. He didn't stop thrashing, clearly desperate to escape. "All right," she relented, trying to keep her own balance on wet rocks, "Okay, no doctors! I promise."

"Promise?" the boy rasped.

"Yes," the woman replied, now even more concerned about the naked _fear_ in his tremulous voice. "I promise. No doctors."

The boy smiled weakly at her.

And fainted.


End file.
